


An Unfortunate Misadventure

by NokiLoki



Category: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Action/Adventure, Draugr (Elder Scrolls) - Freeform, First Meetings, Gen, Hagraven, Inspired by Skyrim, Major Original Character(s), Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Vigilants of Stendarr - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:09:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25342984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NokiLoki/pseuds/NokiLoki
Summary: A mercenary is set off on a quest to retrieve a weapon, he meets a stranger who is stranger than most, but not strange enough to the point of it being a real problem, he thinks.
Kudos: 1





	An Unfortunate Misadventure

**Author's Note:**

> Nassir- Bosmer Rogue
> 
> Rayond- Breton Conjuration Mage (in-learning)
> 
> Moira- Hagraven

  
As a haunting mist was settling over Eastmarch in the aging of the day, nerves began to run inside an uneasy soul. Though the day may have begun bright and flowery the young man kept in mind what unfortunate possibilities could precede.

Picking flowers and snatching butterflies had kept him pleasantly occupied through the long walk, but now the sun had reached it’s peak and was descending. The bubbling of the mud pots did not ease his tension as he was already straining to listen for any abnormal noises or wildlife.

The blanket of silence was broken by the spray of a geyser three feet away, causing him to jump cowardly behind a large rock and into an uncomfortable assemblage of Creep Clusters. It was to his benefit though, as he had been looking for the red root to make a Regain Magicka potion.

“At least I didn’t scream,” he thought, “then my presence would be blown.”

“Weirdo.”

The gruff voice came from an Orc hunter walking along the rocks above the hot spring. A sigh of relief came from the mage as the Orc continued his walk. Maybe he should just stick to the magic. Stealth didn’t seem too much his forte lately.

* * *

Not far off in the march, a black horse pawed at the ground in impatience, it’s rider contemplating choices and consequences. Something wasn’t adding up in the directions given to him. Normally he could get all the information and details by memory but this route was as forgettable as it was confusing.

So now the question remained if he wanted to ask for help or continue on, and possibly stumble into dangerous territory. He could deal with any deadly foes in the area, but to be honest he really didn’t want to.

The Wood elf turned his horse around and galloped back down the path, cloak billowing out behind him. There was an Orc who had hailed him, a hunter no doubt. Surely he’d know this place like the back of his hand, if he was doing his job right.

Shadowmere skipped over the rocks noisily, drawing the hunter's attention.

“Hello again, something you need?” Nassir noticed how he stood a little defensively with his arm hovering at his side next to a dagger. He was a little intimidated by the elf’s appearance, but not as much as he should be.

He asked the Hunter for directions, who reciprocated instructions without much question.

“Yeah, just make sure you avoid Witchmist Grove you can’t mistake it for anything but hostile really. Crazy Hagraven in there, you know how it is.”

He thanked the hunter and returned to his questioned spot. At least now he knew where to go. He followed the hunters directions, very careful to tread lightly on the wildlifes territory as he had been warned.

There was the largest variety of dangerous animals in the wild land than he had ever known before, it wasn’t a wonder why there weren’t more people around. He was often assigned the more dangerous of missions, as he was one of the few capable. So far it was quite easy and uneventful, just a few territorial animals to avoid.

“Greetings fellow traveler!”

The cloaked elf snapped his head around, allowing his eyes to contemplate what he was seeing. It was not so much the rider but the mount that got his attention.  
The elf knew that others found his dark horse’s blood red eyes unsettling, but this thing was shocking.

The steed had merely the frame of a horse’s skeleton, burnt to a black with bright purple flames crying from behind the neck vertebrae, tops of the chiseled hooves, eye sockets, and erupting near it’s rump to form a sort of tail. He looked to see an absence of saddle or reins and held onto the idea that any cushion between the horses sharp backbones and the man was magically invisible.

The glowing red eyes on Shadowmere provoked a little more attention than he thought was necessary but he would be completely insane if he thought he could ride that beast and still be covert. This person was obviously insane or extremely arrogant. Probably both.

“What brings you to these parts?” He asked.

“Business.”

“Not much business to be had here, unless you’re just passing through.” They commented.

“Hm.” The elf ignored him and continued on.

There was a bit of a pause as if he expected him to keep going. He was now riding alongside Shadowmere, staring down at the rider.

“I’ve found this place to be quite treacherous, surely you wouldn’t mind if I kept by you to ensure your safety as well as my own?”

Nassir scoffed at the thought of someone else watching his back. That rarely ever ended as successful as most would think. He was far more skilled than any rogue he had met, and what would a rogue ever need to rely on other than himself?

“I’ll take that as a yes?” He asked. “My name’s Rayond by the way.” He said.

He definitely wasn’t pinning on giving information away to strangers. Especially this crazy wanderer. Of course, he had to wonder what he was doing in the marshland by himself. Would it be too much to ask his own questions? The man definitely seemed talkative enough.

“What is that?” He asked, looking at the purple flaming steed.

Rayond was taken aback.

“Sorry, I was expecting your name back, that is how most people conduct normal conversation, no?”

Some awkward silence ensued before he finally sighed and gave up on trying to know the wood elf’s name. “This is Arvak, his name is Arvak, I summoned him.”

A mage. He should have guessed immediately from the robes he wore, which, upon glancing over, looked quite disheveled. He didn’t have too harsh an accent but from the way he pronounced his name, which he had already forgotten and was not to keen on remembering, he was probably Breton.

He wondered what other types of magicka this Breton was into other than conjuration. There was a possibility of him being an alchemist too. He’d have to keep his eye on him.

“Interesting mount you’ve got yourself, there.” He gestured towards Shadowmere.

“Hm.”

“I haven't seen many red eyed horses before.”

“Really.” He didn’t really ask.

“Did you summon him? Her?”

“No.” He found himself replying.

A peculiar noise resounded off in the distance making the mage recoil over toward the other rider with the force to cause himself to slip off one side of his mount. The elf was going to let him fall off, possibly take excessive time to fix himself, resummon the horse, eventually lag behind and leave him alone, but the Breton caught himself on the rear rigging of the elf’s saddle, much to his annoyance. He tried to ignore the sudden uncomfortable tug as he righted himself as well.

He noticed an unusual pull and clink of a buckle. He realized it could only be from his pack and separate from the Breton as he didn’t even have a saddle. Did he just steal from him?

“What are you doing?!” The short elf proved his strength in pushing the man nearly off his skeletal horse, intimidatingly.  
The exertion given by the traveler seemed to give the magician all the incentive he needed.  
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m not use to riding Arvak! It won’t happen again!”

He was playing dumb.

“I saw that, you skeever!” Once the Breton had resituated himself confidently on his mount the smaller man tugged him back to nearly falling off Arvak. “You don’t think I know what you did.”

“Sorry, sorry sorry sorry!” They were nose to nose, the elf glaring up at the panicked Breton, practically at a ninety degree angle from his horse.

The experienced Bosmer was very sure that Rayond had feigned his alarm to lean down and take something from his supplies. But maybe he was overreacting, he seemed to be but a novice magician after all. He was probably riding around his strange skeleton horse just to boost some confidence in his novice ability. A more experienced mage would summon up something more practical, he was sure.

Upon deciding that he had overestimated Rayond’s ability he let go and continued on his path.

* * *

  
After a while of riding in tension the two began to near an even thicker patch of fog. Rayond began to detest and turn away, Nassir, however walked on undaunted and unwilling to change his mind. Rayond eventually followed sheepishly behind, seeing his pseudo-escort would not change his direction.

The bosmer began to think back to the directions given to him. Was he supposed to go more to the right of that large rock? The orc hadn’t been too specific in directions.

Beads of sweat formed upon Rayond’s brow, he continually craned his head and was spinning back and forth on Arvak attempting to get a better view of his surroundings as they couldn’t see more than 10 feet in front of them.

Just as the mystery elf was considering turning back, a structure in shambles came into view. He could only assume it was the abhorrent Witchmist grove. Spikes were angled outwards to any opposing foes daring to enter from any passage but the front. Rotting corpses of animals hung from pikes, with odd bits and pieces missing and mouths agape in the ghost of terror before death and rigor mortis.

Though the smell was pungent and the scene was horrid, he thought back to what the Hunter said. “If indeed you have the misfortune of running into that deathtrap, the road to your destination will be directly to the left of the shack.”

He thought to himself. ‘If anything attacks i’ll just kill it and this…’ He looked back to Rayond who was oblivious to their arrival of the Witch’s grove. ‘...Mage will probably be able to have some sort of useful magic, right? Unless he’s all talk…’

As they neared the spiked area, Nassir began to scan around for the perpetrator of such a scene. Rayond stopped Arvak dead in his tracks to get an eyeful and nearly screamed at the sight of the area. He galloped up to the cowled Elf in a panic.

“We have to go now! I can’t be seen here!”

“Rayond? Is that you.” A voice creaked from the side of the shack. The wizard’s face paled. He immediately donned his hood to conceal his identity.

The elf wondered if his senses deceived him in any way. He had never known Hagravens to have the ability to talk before. Or smile, or show interest, or doubt for that matter, as he watched, in utter curiosity, as the lanky being strutted its way to the entrance with her strange bird legs. It made him feel a little sick.

“Rayond have you come to pay me a visit, finally?!” Her head cocked to the side and she eyed the now hooded mage.

“What? Uh, sorry uhg. ….…. Ma’am, never heard of this Rayen you're talking about, must be a mistake.” He said in a deeper tone than usual pulling down his hood and attempting to ride on. Nassir, however, stood stationary staring at the peculiarity of it all.

She put her talons on her hips and leaned on one side, chuckling in impatience.

“You’re silly, i know that's you i can smell an alchemist a mile away.”

An audible sigh marked Rayond’s failed attempt to hide.

“Haha you caught me!” He lowered his hood to reveal the now excellent poker face of joy.

“Your change of robes is new. Could have had me fooled. Last we met you were but a Novic with the tendency of making combustible brewings.” She laughed.

The Bosmer began to question his heavily set assumptions about Hagravens. He was also surprised he had the robes confused for being Novice.

“Oh uh, yeah! Hello Moira, I had planned for us to meet….later, but, uh, not right now you see me and my…..my-” Rayond looked over to the Elf, an audience member in disbelief that the actor forgot his lines. “-business partner have very important business to attend to right now so if I could see you later that would be most ideal.” He chuckled, in a most non-reassuring tone.

Before he could get Arvak into a complete gallop the bird woman scrambled over to the flaming horses side and pulled down the detesting mage. Upon removal of the summoners contact the skeleton horse fell into a pile of dark purple bones. Rayond’s face froze up in a grimace as the surprisingly strong Hagraven pulled him into a tight embrace.

As the uncomfortable hugging ensued the onlooker decided that it was all too unnatural and turned Shadowmere towards his destination.

“Does your little friend what to come inside for an introduction?” She cawed after the escaping Bosmer.

An adjective and it’s noun stuck in the average heighted wood elf's mind, ‘Little friend.’ as he glanced in on the one room shack, littered with Moira’s molted feathers and alchemy ingredients.

Rayond prayed to Mara (the god of love) that the stranger would find it in his heart to help him be excused from the horrors of Moira’s hospitality.

“I understand you want to catch up with your friend, Rayond. Please, stay, reminisce, I’ll take care of the job.” Nassir said in the most empathetic tone.  
With that denial of freedom, Rayond gave the Wood-elf a if-we-meet-again-you’re-dead glare.

He turned and began riding off in the predetermined destination. ‘Little friend……little friend…….’ Echoing in his mind. To think an absolute stranger could just walk up to him and get all buddy buddy. Though, he had to admit, that Breton did look familiar. It was something he couldn’t wrap his mind around entirely.

“Okay, Moira, you can set me down now.” Rayond suggested, he watched the dark hooded figure fade into the fog. Though he didn’t even know his name he was still going to hold the Elf accountable for the abandonment.

“Of course, of course. Come inside Rayond.”

They went into her cabin and Moira showed him what she’d been up to lately. Although she was adamant in showing off, Rayond couldn’t help but hear a tone of loneliness in her voice. The lack of human interaction was no doubt taking it’s toll on her. He’d have to visit her more if he could.

Sure, Moira was a hagraven, but because she forfeited most of her humanity she could gain so much more. She was a great with magic and alchemy, oftentimes sharing her new discoveries with Rayond. Unlike her, he could go out in public and show off the discoveries, taking credit for her work but sharing any benefits with Moira that she would want. It was hard because she didn’t really need money or any normal item a person would, so he would bring back a new book or some uncommon potion ingredient.  
He had known Moira before her transformation and although he didn’t have anything to do with it, he didn’t try to talk her out of it, not that it would have done much. She was never a looker but he still felt guilty thinking about her disfigured appearance. He found it tragic that she was cast out, her abilities a great asset yet disregarded for the fact of her ugliness. He related to her in that way. So that’s why he’d stayed her friend.

“Okay, well, my friend probably needs my assistance. I’ve delayed my trip enough as it is.” He made to leave, promptly.

“Oh, I’ll miss you! Come visit soon!”

She wrapped her arms around Rayond, who was cringing just a little.

“Yeah, yeah, okay.”

An anonymous cry of disgust was heard from around the shack. Storming forward was what Rayond could imagine if his College mates found armor and started putting it on haphazardly for shits ‘n giggles. He looked wearily to their sides to see scabbards sheathing long, sharpened swords. He took a step backwards.

“We are the Vigilants of Stendarr and whatever affiliation you have with that abominable hag will end. You no longer have to serve that creature, we will free you!”  
Rayond looked from the group to Moira and from Moira back the group, dumbstruck. How could he leave her side now? He couldn’t let them kill the poor creature, but he certainly didn’t want the Vigilants of Stendarr’s rivalry. Moira spoke up before the tonguetied mage could utter an explanation.

“Excuse me, you thick-headed brute! I’m most capable for talking for myself and I do say, if I’m a hag then you’re most certainly a fishwife!”

A few of the members scoffed and chuckled at Moira’s retort.

“Your malicious actions and black magic will end within the hour, harpy!” An imperial member pointed her sword menacingly towards Moira.

“Am I truly the most malicious figure within this group of brutes?” She retorted.

“You torture and kill animals!”

“I don’t torture them!” She defended.

“Then what the hell is that!” A soldier pointed helpfully to a speared deer. Flies buzzed around the empty sockets, their eyes were no doubt removed for ingredients.

“If they’re dumb enough to run into my fence then that’s their fault. I set up obvious precautions that even the most dimwitted would understand, but I guess I overestimated the likes of you.”

Rayond breathed in through gritted teeth as he noticed the group's displeasure with the fiery hagraven. They were definitely going to attack them now.

* * *

The wood elf, now far away from what ensued, was lost. To what direction he should take he didn’t know. It was becoming quite apparent to him the importance of the orc’s written down directions. He reached down to the bag in which he kept the list of landmarks that the Orc hunter had thoughtfully written down for him.

It was missing.

He searched around in his satchel to find his contract assigned specifically to Nassir of Valenwood. But it, too, was nowhere to be found!

‘My directions, my contract….That mage! I was right!’ Nassir cursed himself for not trusting his own instincts and underestimating the bastard. Just as the ideas of beating the tar out of the mage arose in his head they dissipated. The hagraven would surely protect him, unless of course he talked the witch to beat Rayond up for him… He decided the mage had it worse enough as it was. Besides, Moira was probably just as mad at him for ‘skipping out on his friend’. Now I need to trek all the way back to have a tea party at a Witch’s nest. What a blessed day.

* * *

  
“If you listen to me you could reconsider your misplaced hatred for my poor friend’s form. It is a rather unfortunate predicament.” Rayond tried to talk the riled fleet down a notch.

They stared, with hands firmly placed over their weapons, waiting.

“Poor friend?-” Moira questioned.

“You see I’m trying my very best to return my dear Moira back to sanity, but in order to do that we have to go through some difficult processes, like allowing her dark impulses to come to pass and then treating her for it. I’m really doing my best to heal her mind and I would appreciate it if I could get my actually very intelligent patient back to health without inconveniences to antagonize her further.”

Through his explanation he got some apathetic, disgusted and confused expressions with prompt shakings of their heads. Moira actually made some detesting noises in which Rayond had to give her a look to silence her.

“That is a lie!” One of the members accused.

“No, it’s not actually.” He lied. “It’s quite common for most to believe so that they may have no regrets in slaying them, but I have cured many a hagraven and returned them to their previous state of being. They really tend to be marvelous individuals of-”

“I’ve never heard of Hagravens being cured before.” They cut off his rambling.

“They are simply misunderstood, pathetic creatures.” He explained, much to Moira’s annoyance.

“Hagravenism is a choice that they never go back on. Once a Hagraven, always a Hagraven.”

“Yeah.” A couple agreed.

“Yeah!” The rest insisted.

“No, I can reverse this.” He persuaded

“No, he can’t, he’s lying.” Moira piped up. “He’s not here to dissuade me from anything, he’s my friend and he’s just as interested in forbidden magic as myself!” Moira stated to Rayond’s utter shock.

“She’s lying.” He tried. “She says that to anyone, she’s not in a right state of mind, you see.”

“Young mage.” An archer called calmly from the back. “Step away from the Hagraven and you won’t get hurt.” They were slinging an arrow slowly to their bow.

Rayond grabbed Moira’s talon and rushed back through the gate, casting a magic shield behind them. He could hear an arrow disintegrate just behind him as it hit the shield. A cry of agony could also be noticed, as someone of the group had already hurt themselves on the stake fence. How idiotic does one have to be to NOT avoid a pike?

+++  
Moira had gone out to fight the group while Rayond stood dumbstruck in the cabin. He personally wasn’t quite sure if he could take on this many people of high skill. Moira was obviously fighting for her territory, she had to fight. Rayond, on the other hand, could leave if he wanted to. Then again, he would be remembered by the Vigilants of Stendarr, no doubt hunted down and questioned.

He peered out of a crack in the boards to spot an archer pulling back an arrow to shoot Moira with. Before he was able to act the archer convulsed as another arrow went straight through his heart.

Rayond knew that wasn’t a spell cast by Moira, she was too busy placing Wards onto her cabin to prevent the group from burning it down while avoiding arrows and swords at the same time.

He had a feeling, of who it could be.

Sure they wore plates of armor here and there but that didn’t stop the unseen Archer from finding soft spots where their colorful robes could be seen.  
Nassir didn’t have many dealings with the Vigilants of Stendarr but he had basic knowledge and knew they were all generally assholes. The true monsters of Skyrim.

Rayond came out of the cabin to assist in killing the rest of the members who had challenged his friend, though he cringed at the great amount of bloodshed.  
Once the fight was over Moira showed her disapproval at Rayond’s insulting attempts at trickery.

“How dare you!”

“Moira! Come on! It would have worked if you would have played along!” Rayond was just as upset.

Nassir grabbed Rayond’s robes and yanked him over.

“I believe you’ve got something of mine.” He inquired threateningly.

“Whatever it is I believe you.” Rayond agreed.

“Have fun!” Moira huffed as she strutted back to her hutch.

“She’ll be mad for awhile, but she’ll get over it.” Rayond commented to Nassir as if he’d care. “In the meantime, care to search the bodies?”  
Normally Nassir would scavenge as much as he could but he hadn’t much time and with his current concern in his hands, wanted to take care of business.

“You stole something of mine.”

“Did I? I haven’t even looked at it yet.”

“You stole something very particular. Not something I would consider a coincidence.”

Rayond remained silent.

“Why did you steal the directions? Have you been following me? Who sent you?”

“No! I’ve just been looking for this ruin, probably longer than you have!”

“What? How do you know it’s a ruin I’m looking for?”

“There’s not much out here that’s special enough for the likes of you.”

“I’m a traveler passing through.”

“The point is: I know you and I are going to the same place. I didn’t know the exact directions and I honestly didn’t expect you to care about some directions.”

“Well, give them back!”

“Can I come with you?”

Nassir remained silent in pondering. He had heard of how dangerous it was but for what kind of traps he would encounter he was blind in the dark. Nassir was going to leave it up to his instincts to lead him safely through, he was always good at improv in dungeoneering.

The mage said he had been looking for the ruin longer than he had, he must have been doing research of some sort, right?

“You said you’ve been searching for his ruin. So how much do you know?”

Rayond went immediately to his bag and pulled out books and papers to show all he’d brought. Nassir watched notes and letters fall all around them as he explained common runes and puzzles placed in tombs by the ancient people of Skyrim. He could see the directions on the ground along with all the other papers and snatched it back, the mage, not seeming to notice so enthralled in his explanation.

Nassir checked the directions along with the letter on the back detailing the job. The letter didn’t seem like it had been looked at, possibly not even noticed.  
With a whistle Shadowmere came over and they agreed to travel to the ruin together under the condition that Rayond would keep up.

* * *

During their time traveling to the ruin Nassir had confirmed to himself that the mage was a strange jack of all trades, a bit of a multi-class, but for the most part a mage with an interest in knowledge and discovering the unknown. His friendship with the Hagraven, however, could be either shady as hell, or proof of how naive he really was.

His knowledge in the ruin puzzles was invaluable, though he did flub up now and again, it was nothing Nassir couldn’t cover for. Honestly, if Nassir could have gotten through it by himself, at most, the mage made it run smoother.

Once they had gotten through the puzzles, they were at the master crypt. It was a large clearing compared to the rest of the claustrophobic tunnels of the tomb, with lots of dips and protrusions in the rock. A little crimson light shone from cracks in the ceiling, somehow making its way down from the sunset outside. The red minimally light the scene before them in a villainous way and reflected off the running water.

Empty torches could be seen about, here and there, so Rayond shot a few mage light spells to fill the place holders, properly lighting the path to what could be seen as a triad of large stone slabs.

As they walked on the bridge over the red reflecting water Nassir could swear something pale glinted from underneath. Up from the water, dragr came splashing from all sides, throwing the adventurers into combat.

With neither of them being close combat fighters, they ran off the bridge and using either arrows or ice shards shot the enemies to death, easily. Though it was efficient for the time being, Nassir could see how it could become a problem.

An explosion of stone could be heard at the very back of the crypt and when the two of them turned they were met with the cold magic hand of the dragon priest. It shot a whirlwind spell at the two which Rayond fended off with a ward spell. Once that was down Nassir shot an arrow which ricocheted off the arms, held up in defense, of the priest’s dragon armor.

Bursting coffins sounded from all around the tomb and before they knew it they were surrounded in all directions. Nassir knew if he was going to survive this he’d have to start killing as soon as possible. If they came too close he could always pull out his short sword but he didn’t want it to come to that. He hoped that the mage could handle his own draugr.

Fiery explosions were erupting from all areas of the crypt, shaking the very ground that they walked on, taking out several draugr at once. The noise from where Nassir was was unpleasantly loud but from Rayond’s position it must have been deafening. Sure enough, while Rayond was firing away at the dragon priest a few draugr were coming up on his side.

Leaving his remaining draugr, Nassir stole himself to risk it and save the mage. Both were swinging at Rayond, with a combined effort enough to cripple him. In his eagerness he shot one in the back of the head, killing it instantly and also causing it to collapse onto the mage, making him fall out of the way of the other draugr’s axe. Rushing towards it, he pulled out a dagger to take care of the other one. A bolt of ice, from below stole the job.

Nassir kicked the draugr off of Rayond and threw a few blades at the dragon priest, who once again deflected them with his seemingly impenetrable armor, staff and mask. He gave up on the priest and dragged Rayond to safety behind a rock, still surprised with himself for taking a chance on the man.

As Nassir took care of the draugr he had left behind, Rayond recovered from getting flattened by the draugr. Using some soothing healing spells it gave him time to think. For some reason, his magic had little to no power against this priest.

If Rayond knew anything about high level Draugr it was that their power was often enhanced by enchanted weapons, in this case armor. Specifically, the Dragon priest’s mask.

“It’s the mask!” Rayond pulled Nassir back away from a blast of whirlwind ice and back behind the boulder. “The nine dragon priest masks all have some enchantment, more powerful than..”

Nassir had to cut him off, pushing him out of the way of falling rubble. He had to wonder if he still couldn’t hear anything just yet. Skeletons and Draugr shambled out of the newly formed hole. Nassir whipped an arrow out of his quiver and had it slotted in a flash, ready for the new wave of abominations.

“So what? Take it’s mask off?” He nailed a few skeletons as they descended the bolder. “I don’t know about you but I don’t think he’s approachable enough for a ceremonial crowning.” Bones began to rain down on the two as Nassir’s arrows hit their mark.

“I’m going to throw you at the priest and you are going to knock off the mask.”

Nassir shot him a look as if to ask ‘Are you crazy?’

“He’ll never see it coming!” Rayond tried.

Clasping two hands under Nassir’s foot Rayond used all his strength in the throw. Nassir realized, mid jump that Rayond would never have the muscular capacity to lift him let alone throw him to the destination. Making a split second decision, Nassir made up for Rayond’s lack of strength by also kicking off from his back, projecting him forward and sending Rayond face first in the clacking pile of bones.

All done at high velocity, Nassir jumped from Rayond’s back, up the boulder, and down at Priest. The Draugr turned in time to feel Nassir kicking the mask from it’s face, which had been caked on for centuries. The metal mask clanked to the burial floor, possibly with some dead flesh still clinging on.

Nassir rolled from his mid air kick and spun to meet his assailant. The Priest turned around, face full of malice and rage at what the rogue had just done. With the mask gone Nassir was sure he would have gagged if not before having experience with the undead. Showing grotesque decaying face and eyeless sockets the zombie nashed it’s rotten teeth, flaps of skin hanging down, melting and going in between it’s teeth. It gave an irritated growl.

It’s mask was gone now, how was it weaker?

“Rayond!?” Nassir shouted to behind the boulder. He hoped his kick didn’t land Rayond’s head into a rock or something. He wasn’t sure if the Draugr would leave him alone or if they’d be able to sense his life force, even when unconscious.

“RAYOND!” Nassir yelled, drawing back his bow string and aiming at the dragon priest’s disgusting mug.

Jumping up in a burst of bones, Rayond made a mental note not to judge weight by height alone, for future reference. He ran up from behind the boulder and shot giant electric bolts from the tips of his fingers, lighting the entire clearing in blue light.

The floating monster began to seizure at the touch of lightning and steam could be seen rising from the cooking of flesh. Finally, the dragon priest seemed to be reacting to the spells being shot.

With its arms down and face visible Nassir took two easy shots with one arrow in each eye. That seemed to finish him off for the most part, with the arrows plunged deep and Rayond’s spell dissipating the priest floated to the ground. Not quite convinced Nassir pulled out a third arrow to finish the job and so focused on the dragon priest and deafened by the lightning bolts, was blind to sneaking draugr encroaching from behind and on his left flank.

A ripping pain came from his side, causing him to lose balance and his grip on the arrow. Getting let loose, the arrow missed the now fully dead dragon priest and hit a rock. From the velocity it was going at it ricocheted easily off the hard stone and towards an unsuspecting Rayond. With all his magicka used up in the shocking of the priest he had no wards to rely on to avoid the arrow. His attempts to dodge the arrow were poor and although he began to fall off the side of the tall rock they were on the arrow still pierced him in the thigh with a sickening crunch before he made his descent.

Nassir dropped his bow to the side to draw the short sword tucked neatly and almost unnoticeable at his side. The draugr who had cut at him had his head sliced clean off. The other draugr were taken care of easily with a few clean moves, however, it did further aggregate the slash in his flank. Nassir panted, very much in pain he dropped to one knee. The last draugr stood before him with a small axe and shield in its hand. As it came at Nassir he wasn’t sure if he’d have the strength to block it and prepared for the worst.

A fiery explosion erupted between the two with the rotten foe blown to bits and Nassir, forced to the ground, unscathed aside from the slightly singed armor. Rayond had climbed back up, just in time to save Nassir. Although his falling had been very painful, with the jagged rocks cutting at him and the arrow in his leg twisting and pushing deeper, he had fully recovered with the help of a little kind of magic. He made sure to wipe the tears away before being seen.

“We did it!” Rayond exclaimed.

Nassir, propped himself up on one arm with a grunt. He could really feel the intensity of his injury now. The warm liquid seeping down his body and leg, possibly mixing with the dirt and grit in the crypt. He didn’t have the energy to look down but he could feel the wound from shoulder blade to thigh. He really felt cut open.  
He cursed the draugr’s blade that had interrupted his perfect flow.

“Oh, you look worse for wear.” Rayond commented, as he slugged back a blue potion.

‘You look like you’ve been through a grater, but I could still make you look worse if you don’t give me some of that.’ Nassir thought, a mix of angry and desperation that this smug fuck was busy cracking out a drink to victory while ignoring the fact that he was bleeding out. He’d never risk his life for this man again if this was what he was going to earn for it.

Here was the moment of truth. Was he going to leave him to die like many others before? Betray him for the chance of greater glory? Nassir felt his grip on his throwing knives tighten just thinking about it.

“Nothing my magic hands can’t fix.” The mage chuckled as his hands lit up in a yellow glow.

Nassir felt his wounds tingle a bit, almost as if ants were crawling over them and knitting his flesh together. The prickling sensation intensified with the pulsating of the fairy lights in Rayond’s hand. The warm glow suddenly had Nassir surrounded, swirling around him like gnats, and although it stopped the agony and gave him energy he couldn’t help but feel somewhat trapped.

“That’s enough.”

“Really? A second ago, I thought you were going to kill me for not doing something about that wound-”

“I’m fine now.”

Rayond let his hand drop and the fairy lights went out in a snap. The ants he could feel on his skin marched away and out of existence. As the numbing went away Nassir could feel the areas where the wound once was as sore, but no longer fatal. Maybe he could have let the spell go on a bit longer to solidify his health, but this man wasn’t exactly his buddy quite yet.

Not to mention the way he felt about magic. Something so foreign and unusual couldn’t be fully trusted.

He hadn’t left him to die, or purposefully let him get injured, though. That would be remembered.

Rayond ran over to the runed stone, overzealous. He plumped down, cross legged in the middle of the semi circle and pulled out several scrolls from his satchel. He began to read over them, referring back to the large slab time and time again with rapid persistence. Nassir had no idea what was so great about these types of artifacts, since he had passed by twice a dozen of them without batting an eye. Though they once held a mystery to him, he was no longer phased by their presence.

Nassir began to search through the grand treasure chest at the base of the Dragon priest’s coffin. There should be a greatsword etched with runes for him to steal from the chest. The markings were obvious and would be hard for him to miss. The sword would be heavy and awkward for him to have but he hadn’t brought much to weigh him down on this mission for this purpose.

Sure enough he found it, and promptly leaned it up against the side of the chest. As soon as he was done picking through the rest of the treasure contents he let the chest lid snap shut. He was startled to see the mage standing right where the lid had been blocking his vision, apparently already done with gazing at the runed slab. To his annoyance, he was holding the greatsword Nassir had so perilously sought for, inspecting the runes with great interest.

“You can’t keep that.” Nassir’s hand reached for his bow.

“This is a sword of elemental fury. Just so you’re aware, it’s of great and ancient power.”

“Thanks.”

“You know it’s good to keep in mind what you carry so-”

“I appreciate it.”

“-and also what you plan to give away.”

“Sure.”

“You’re client is going to find themselves very very powerful with this sword. Just so you know.”

“I’ll believe it.”

“So strong they could take down anyone, including person’s with the knowledge to attain such powerful artifacts.” He warned.

Nassir thought back on the man who had hired him for this job. He sensed a narrow-mindedness to him, garned with a selfish and egoistic behavior. Most importantly he could recall with alarm the hints of a deep complicated past. With all these negative signs he had a feeling the job was shady. However, he still had taken the job.

The warnings he was being given now, were well-placed, no doubt given on a whim but nevertheless with good intention. So this guy was sharper than he let on.

Could it be possible, however, that he was also more malicious than he let on?

“What’s your name again.” Nassir asked.

Rayond smiled, “Rayond Martin Charbonneau, at your service,” he bowed in the grandest possible way he could think.

“Who are you?” He asked.

“Nassir.” He found himself answering.

Though this Rayond character had the potential to become a threat he was friendly enough at the moment. Nassir saw little harm in befriending him, for now.

Once Rayond and Nassir had found the exit passageway they could see that the sun had finally descended past the horizon.

The night was fresh and crisp in East March. Creatures chirped, glow bugs floated in the distance, the air was still and everything seemed to be at peace. The deep blue canvas of a sky was dappled with white pinpricks of stars overlayed in an aurora of pulsating turquoise, blue, and yellow.

Rayond reached around and placed a chummy arm around Nassir’s shoulder. With great grandeur he gestured towards the magnificent, multi-colored, sparkling night sky.

“You and me, Nassir, we could get a lot done working together. The world is ignorant to such an imposing duo as us. What do you say?”  
Nassir tsked. ‘If ever we were to meet again, that is.’ He thought to himself, ‘I suppose the chance of that happening is not impossible, it could happen.’


End file.
